Life's Funny That Way
by BornToBeAGingerArcher
Summary: A snapshot in Ford's life after his brother gets kicked out.


Sweat poured down Ford's face as he pounded the aged punching bag. Maybe those boxing lessons would be of some of use to him after all.

It had been two months since Stan had gotten thrown out- _got himself kicked out_ , Ford thought with a snort. It had been quiet around the house without the younger twin's boisterous laughter and energetic chattering.

Well, except for the one time Ford had dared to mention Stan's name at the dinner table. Filbrick got a look in his eye that Ford recognized all too well. The young man meekly retreated to the sound of his father bellowing a string of expletives and his mother sobbing.

An involuntary shudder ran down his back at the memory. It was one of the very few times he had seen his mother openly shed tears. Before Stan left, the only time he remembered her weeping was when Shermie went off to fight in Vietnam. He could recall the terror of realizing that his older brother might never return.

 _Will I ever see Stan again? Where is he now? Is he even still alive?_

Ford shook his head, angrily cutting his thoughts short.

Heaven knew that he didn't want harm to come to his twin, but he couldn't waste his time worrying about Stan.

He pounded more desperately, focusing all his anger, grief, and fear into beating the snot out of his imagined enemies. Everyone who called him a freak, a loser, worthless, who made him want to cut off his extra fingers, or worse.

Stan let him down. _He always tried to ride on my coattails and I let him. I let him cheat his way through school. He used me. He sabotaged me because he couldn't stand the thought of my being successful._

Ford paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. His head buzzing with ire towards Stan, he pummeled the bag as though he hoped that his brother could feel each punch.

 _No. It's worse than that. He wanted me to stay with him for the rest of our lives. He couldn't let me go. How could I never see that? He doesn't care about me, he just doesn't want to be alone._ _Well, good riddance._

He almost collapsed from the anger flowing through his body. Ford slipped to the floor, his head swimming. He was so close, so close to reaching his dreams. He had worked so hard. A sob formed in his throat. That's what he told the scouts from West Coast Tech. They didn't care. To them, he was just some hack trying to weasel his way into their school.

The exhausted teen leaned against the wall, trying to slow his breathing and heart rate. He had to be strong. If he was to still make something of himself, he couldn't be a weakling. His mind and body had to be in peak condition.

Eventually, Ford slipped one of the boxing gloves off and glanced at his watch. It was almost dinner time, but he found that he wasn't hungry. Besides, he never spent more than five minutes in the same room as his father. The teen was terrified that if he crossed Filbrick again, he couldn't escape without a black eye. Ford reasoned that he could slip into the kitchen later, while his father was busy.

He hesitantly crept up the stairs, listening for an indicator of his father's presence. Hearing nothing, Ford stole into his room. Papers littered the floor, each one an acceptance letter from a college. Hundreds of them. Some were from state colleges, some from technical schools, a couple were from community colleges.

Ford had thought about tossing the last group right into the trash, but his mother guilted him into forbearing, at least until he needed to make a decision. He rationalized that she wanted him near her, especially because he was the last child she could visit. He knew that the real reason was they couldn't afford anything else. He had applied for as many scholarships as he feasibly could. Even then, he would be in student debt for the next twenty years, at least.

He grabbed a pile of papers and climbed onto the top bunk of the bed. Leaning on his elbows, he read through the contents of each letter and set them aside. _Congratulations Stanford Pines, you have been accepted into Ohio Technical College. We offer degrees in all forms of engineering…. You show real promise…..We hope to see you this fall._ Most were some variation of this.

Ford sighed, adjusted his glasses, and pushed a hand through his messy brown hair. In another world, he'd be ecstatic that so many colleges wanted him to attend. In this reality, however, he knew that there was little to no chance of his finding somewhere he belonged. Nor would he find a career path that could satisfy his endless hunger for knowledge.

He should accept the hand he had been dealt, and choose a school that could bring him temporary happiness, at least. He clenched his teeth at the thought. No, he couldn't do that. He'd be cheating himself out of a proper education, a chance to be remembered as a pioneer in his field.

He jumped down, prepared for another round of disappointments. He noticed a paper that was sitting by itself near the door. Picking it up, he read it was from Backupsmore, a tiny college in northern New Jersey, famed for being as mediocre as it sounded. He was about to put it in the "Only as a last resort" pile, when he noticed hurried scrawl along the bottom.

It read: "Dear Stanford, I know that you have your heart set on going to a fancy college. You probably won't even bother to pay much attention to this letter. Please give this school a chance. It may not be your perfect school, but it still has a lot to offer. No matter what, I love you. I see how much you beat yourself up over your hands and your smarts, and it makes me so sad. You are wonderful and I know you can do anything you put your mind to. Love, your Ma."

He didn't know if it was the letter or his sheer exhaustion, but Ford could feel the tears running down his cheeks. He knew his mother loved him, but she had never comforted him like this before.

Once his eyes cleared, he read about Backupsmore. The rumors weren't far off; it was understaffed and underfunded and far from his first choice. He decided to be optimistic; there were programs that seemed fascinating. _At least I won't have to adjust to a new time zone._ He chuckled half sincerely, gently folded the paper, and placed it in his pocket. He felt some of the weight lifted off of him.

For the first time in a while, he had a plan. One that wasn't entirely fool-proof or straightforward, but looked a lot better than any of his other options. He sighed, but this time, there was little pain or frustration behind it. It wasn't quite contentment, but something similar.

He slipped into bed, completely worn from the day, and fell into a deep, peaceful slumber.

Tomorrow could a new day of new beginnings. Tomorrow would be great.


End file.
